


Xylophobia

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Series: X is for... [22]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e06 Countrycide, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen hates the countryside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xylophobia

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [dance4thedead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance4thedead/pseuds/dance4thedead) in the [D4tDCP](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/D4tDCP) collection. 



> The challenge was to write at least 1,000 words without using the word “the”. It was bloody hard! This was especially challenging for me because I don’t normally write about Owen, so I hope it’s okay. I also added in a bit from a Tumblr post by superpoterlockedinthetardis about concussed Ianto on the way back to Cardiff after Countrycide.

**xylophobia**  
 _noun_  
Fear of wood, forest or trees.

 

Owen has never been so glad to see Captain Jack Harkness in his life. There have been more than a few past incidents from which Jack has saved him, but this beats them all. Ianto is about to be _bled_ in front of him, and Tosh, and Gwen, and they’re next.

A bead of cold sweat drips down Owen’s forehead, but he ignores it, supresses it, because it’s much easier to be angry than terrified. Captain Jack has made a grand, dramatic entrance, crashing that tractor inside – a bit bloody extreme, if you ask Owen – but it doesn’t matter because he’s holding a rifle, and a pissed-off Jack with a gun has more force than a tornado. No, these sick fuckers don’t stand a chance against Torchwood’s fearsome leader.

Their captors fall as Jack shoots, bullets flying everywhere. Owen looks on, not admitting even to himself that for a second there he falls a tiny bit in love with his captain.

Jack is about to kill Evan, worst of them all, but Gwen protests, saying that she needs to understand, needs to know why this village thinks there’s nothing wrong with cannibalism. Owen frowns; Gwen just has to question everything, but sometimes there are no answers. These people just don’t deserve to live, and he understands Jack’s hesitance to let Gwen question Evan – she won’t be safe, she won’t like whatever answer he gives, he doesn’t deserve to give an explanation, only to be punished.

Still, when Gwen gives him instructions, Owen obeys. She’s not in a position of authority to order him about, but these people need him to heal their wounds, injuries inflicted by Jack as revenge for them hurting _his_ people – _his_ _team_. Despite it going against his nature to help bastards such as these, while Jack and Gwen take Evan away for questioning, Owen sucks it up and tends to each villager’s bullet wounds, ripping their clothes to use as temporary bandages. He decides it’s okay to leave them, as getting shot _hurts_ and he hasn’t administered any anaesthetic, so any movement will be too painful.

He then takes a look at Tosh and Ianto. They’re both shaking, eyes not really focussed, and they both look like they’re about to cry at any moment. Ianto is holding his back very straight, but instead of conveying confidence, his rigidness gives away his fear. Owen wonders what sort of injuries Torchwood’s youngest member received before he and Gwen were captured, and hopes there won’t be too much emotional trauma to deal with as well – Owen’s pretty sure that Ianto’s got enough of that, what with Canary Wharf and losing his girlfriend; he just doesn’t let anyone see it. Not that Owen _wants_ to see it, it’s just that, well, he finds Ianto’s extreme introversion a bit scary.

And then there’s Toshiko. Good old Tosh, who’s always there to help. She’s worked for Torchwood longer than Owen, and has probably seen more tragedies, just because of her age and experience, but she has a vacant look in her eyes and is hugging herself.

He can’t bear to see his friend so broken, so he tells her and Ianto to go and wait outside – it’s after sunrise now, so it’s light enough, and they could do without having to stay with their captors while he phones for help. Tosh grabs Ianto’s arm as they stumble outside, and Owen would like to speculate about that, but doesn’t, because one: he doesn’t actually care, and two: he has a phone call to make.

He digs into his pocket, but of course his mobile isn’t there. It must have fallen out at some stage, but there’s no mobile coverage out here anyway, so it would be useless. He swears to himself and goes in search of a telephone.

He finds one attached to a wall; _what a surprise_ , he thinks. _Bloody peasants._ He dials 999 and demands police and an ambulance. He’s snappish and he knows it, but his patience ran out a long time ago, and he’s never been one for polite telephone conversations. Besides, who on Earth calls emergency services to speak in a calm, polite manner? Ianto’s face pops up in his mind, and he shakes his head, but he’s reminded to check on Ianto and Tosh.

Once he’s been told that he can hang up, he goes outside in search of his traumatised colleagues. They’ve not gone far and are just standing together. He can’t tell if they’re talking, but he suspects they’re not. Tosh and Ianto keep things to themselves, and their feelings about this bloody disaster are no exception. He sighs, and walks over to them, making sure his footsteps are loud enough for them to hear him approach.

He was right – they’re not speaking.

“Right,” he announces his arrival, “which one of you needs me more?”

Two blank faces swivel towards him. He winces at their haunted expressions and reminds himself to have words with Jack later about assuming these two were capable on their own and didn’t need a search party.

“You’re both hurt,” he clarifies. “Whose injuries are more urgent?”

Tosh nudges Ianto in Owen’s direction, and Owen thanks her before pushing Ianto towards a short stone wall.

“Sit.”

Not looking at Owen, Ianto follows his instructions and lets Owen examine him. Owen takes mental notes, diagnosing bruised ribs and a possible concussion, not to mention shock, but there’s nothing he can do about it without any medical equipment.

“I’m done. You’ll live, Jones.”

Ianto nods, and hugs himself. He hasn’t looked at Owen once, and it’s unsettling.

“You’re welcome,” Owen grumbles as he goes to check on Tosh.

Her injuries aren’t as bad as Ianto’s, but her skin is just as pale and her eyes just as dark. He prescribes them both a few days of rest, and if Harkness protests he can shove his complaints up his arse. These two need time to concentrate on getting over this latest incident.

When a police car, followed by an ambulance, pulls up, Owen thinks it’s _about bloody time._

* * *

It’s a subdued affair as Jack drives them back to Cardiff. Tosh sits up front with him while Owen sits between Gwen and Ianto so he’s there in case either of their injuries cause them pain. No-one speaks, a huge contrast from their trip yesterday, when they were all talking to each other, even if it was to bicker. There are five people in this car, and Owen would usually be participating in two different conversations at once, but it’s silent. And it’s not a natural silence but a silence born of terror and disgust and shock, all due to those fucking cannibals.

Ianto, of all people, breaks it. “Do you really think I could get hepatitis from that hamburger?” he asks, his voice small, pathetic, and confused.

On a normal day, or as normal as a day can be for Torchwood, Owen would laugh. Instead, he reassures Ianto that no, he won’t get hepatitis from eating that burger yesterday.

“Oh.” Ianto retreats back into his shell like a hermit crab, and doesn’t say another word.

A few minutes later, a hand latches onto Owen’s thigh. He glances sideways at Gwen, but her head is turned away and her gaze is distant. He covers her hand with his. She looks at him then, and nods, once, her hazel eyes vulnerable and her face easy to read.

He nods in reply. He tries not to smirk, because that would be insensitive, but he did tell her they’d be amazing together. Instead, he scoots over a tad so their hips are touching, turns her hand over, and joins it with his.

Owen reflects that he never should have let Jack bully him into going _camping_ in a _national park_ in _Wales._ It was always going to be a recipe for disaster, he could’ve told Jack that. But while he has a new reason to never go back of beyond again, maybe something good has come of this trip after all. Only time will tell.


End file.
